Dirty little secret
by airkissed
Summary: ONESHOT. "Didn't you hear what Vince said? He wants us to make nice." Randy/OC


**AN: This is an old one shot but I took it down months ago. Just reposting :) It gets a little...steamy midway through but don't worry, just keep reading!  


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"Shut up, the both of you!" the WWE chairman bellowed over the voices of the Superstar and Diva who were currently in his office, quarreling about the same nonsense once more. Halting their argument, Randy Orton and diva, Jessie, exchanged looks with one another before turning their attention to Vince. "I am sick and tired of your constant bickering. This is a multi-million dollar corporation, not a day care!"

Jessie was one of the newest additions to the WWE roster when she came into the company through the yearly diva search. Known as an angelic lamb backstage, it was a completely different story when she stepped through the curtain and transformed into a feisty vixen. When it came to the former WWE-champion, the pair constantlly verbally sparred over small foolish things. Randy liked to embarrass and pull ribs on the brunette in front of their peers; while she despised his patented cocky-attitude. He had been the sole individual who gave her a hard-time, despite her many but failed attempts in the beginning to befriend him.

"Well, I wouldn't be fighting with this dill-hole if he didn't constantly take my stuff!" the young woman spouted. A surge of anger bubbled through Jessie upon seeing Randy flip her the bird. "I'm sick of it and I'm sick of him."

"Is this true, Randy?" their boss questioned sternly, turning to lock eyes with him.

"No," the Legend-Killer simply denied. "What would _I _do with her cheap-slutty dresses? Or her now-decapitated teddy-bear?" Randy titled his head to the side as he tried to bite back the inclination to smirk when the diva gave him a cold-hearted look. "Besides, you have no proof that it was me who took your crap."

Clenching her fist, Jessie wanted nothing more than to knock him upside the head. What was his problem? She had never done a single thing to him that warranted this type of unkindness. "You are such a liar," she pointed out.

"He does have a point, Jessie," Vince spoke up. "Do you have any evidence that points to Randy committing those juvenile acts?"

She should have known that going to him for assistance was pointless. Of course Vince wouldn't have taken her side or enforced disciplinary action against one of the top Superstars. Replacing her desire to physically harm Randy, Jessie now resisted the temptation to knee Mr. McMahon in the groin. "No, I don't," she dejectedly declared with a sigh.

Smoothing down the front of his sports coat, Vince brought a smile to his face—something that somewhat took Jessie by surprise. "I suggest you two stop this fighting then. No more yelling and shrieking back-and-forth. I want you to learn how to play nice with one another." Saying nothing more, the man patted Jessie on the arm before exiting the room, leaving them alone.

"Yeah, okay then…" she uncomfortably said, turning to the door with also the intention of departing. Reaching out and grabbing her arm, Randy jerked her back with brute force. "What the hell are you doing?" she asked, smacking him across the chest with the back of her other hand.

Further irritating her, he chucked in response. "Didn't you hear what Vince said? He wants us to make nice."

Taking note of a mischievous shimmer in his eyes, she immediately knew what he suggesting. Pulling her arm away, Jessie tried to rub the reddened part of it away. "We're in _Vince's_ office…"

"Yeah, and?" Randy answered, not seeing her point as he looked her up and down.

"That's it. We're in _his_ office. What if he comes back?"

Stepping closer, he lowered his head and whispered against her lips. "Then I suggest you keep the screaming to a minimum." Capturing her mouth and kissing her, Randy caught Jessie by surprise.

In spite of being taken back for a split second, she returned the kiss. This had become a regular occurrence between them. Shouting would result in kissing and her nails digging into his back; something that made both secretly await the next heated incident. It first occurred following one of their usual spats regarding his rude behavior towards her and from then on, they constantly triggered unnecessary arguments that ended in unbridled sex. Their frustration and hidden sexual desire lead to intense hook-ups. You know that they say—angry sex is one of the best kinds of sex.

When Randy lifted her up, Jessie securely wrapped her legs around his waist. The man set her down on the desk-top before his hands fell to the front of her blouse, hastily unfastening the row of buttons. Sliding the material off her shoulders, he threw her top aside and took in the sight of her breasts, which sat perfectly in the cups of her bra. He pulled her closer into him—pressing their bodies together.

"I absolutely cannot stand you," Jessie whispered as he began to fervently plant kisses on her collarbone. However, she arched her back as Randy's lips moved lower to her chest.

Gliding his finger over the black lace, Randy could sense the chills that ran down along her spine. "Don't you worry, sweetheart, I despise you too," he responded. Reaching behind her, the man unhooked her bra and swiftly removed it from her body. If there was anything Jessie would never admit out loud, it would be loving the feel of his hands against her bare skin. So caught up in what he was doing, Randy had not noticed that Jessie had slid her skirt off. All that separated him from her unclothed body was the matching lace thong she still had on. He lightly caressed the inside of her thigh and elicited a soft moan from the girl, which he loved. It meant that he was in control because now, she would desperately yet gleefully yearn for him. He loved these moments—they gave him another chance to mercilessly tease Jessie, but in an entirely _different_ form. "Tell me you want me," Randy huskily told her.

Before she could reply, there was a loud knock on the door. "Orton, are you in there?"

"Uh, y-yeah…give me a second!" Randy called out. Shoving him away and scrambling frantically off the desk, Jessie quickly gathered her garments. "Get under the desk," he harshly told her. Obeying his order—which she normally would never do—Jessie scurried to get under the wooden desk. When he was certain that there would be no visible sign of the girl, Randy hopped into the leather chair behind the desk and propped his legs up. Thank god he was still fully dressed. "Come in!"

The door swung open and it was John Cena who stood at the doorway. "What are you doing, man?"

"Nothing." Uneasily clearing his throat, Randy tried to remain composed though he'd much rather be _doing_ the diva on top of the desk instead of sitting there, talking to his old friend. "Just, you know, mentally preparing myself for tonight's match."

With a nod of the head, John folded his large arms across his chest. "Heard you and Jess got into it again..."

"Yeah, you know how it is with her. The bitch always talks shit and can never admit when she's wrong."

Hearing this, Jessie was quick to cover her mouth when she gasped loudly. Luckily for her and Randy, John seemed oblivious to this. Glancing around the floor, she searched for something in hopes of jabbing Randy in the leg with. How dare he call her a bitch?

John chuckled at Randy's comment, which Jessie made a mental note of. He was supposed to be her friend, so why didn't he defend her? She'd have to confront him later—when she wasn't hiding underneath a desk. And _clothed_. "You know Jess is only like that around you, right? You bring out the worst in her," he said. Smirking faintly, Randy thought about how he also brought out her sexually adventurous side. "You two need to work out whatever problems you have," John stated, taking no notice of the smug look on his best friend's face. "There is way too much tension pent up between you and her."

"I'm sure we'll figure out a way to alleviate the aggression…"

"Right on," John said with a clueless thumbs-up. "Anyway, I wanted to know if I could borrow your razor. I can't find mine."

"Yeah, fine. Whatever. Take it," the third-generation superstar hastily responded. John gave a simple thank-you and shut the door behind him as he left. Scooting the chair back a bit, Randy glanced down to see that Jessie had successfully re-dressed herself in the meantime. Damn it, John ruined the moment. Looking down at her on the floor, it stirred up an idea in his mind to set off the sparks again. "Since you're down there, how about you put your mouth to _good_ use…"

"Screw you, jackass. You just called me a bitch, why would I put your dick in my mouth?" she huffed in disdain, crawling out from under the desk.

"What? _Too much _for you to handle?" Randy inquired with his infamous arrogant smirk. "Or have you reverted back into a prude?" That comment would surely piss her off, wouldn't it? Crap. His plan had not worked—Jessie began making her way to the door. Why did John have to mess it up? Blowing out a breath, Randy squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. Expecting the sound of a slamming door, he waited but never heard it. Instead, a quiet click took its place when he realized the door was being locked. Opening his eyes, he saw the young woman smiling back at him with an air of annoyance.

_Guess the remark worked..._


End file.
